


Requiem

by girl_next_door_writes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_next_door_writes/pseuds/girl_next_door_writes
Summary: The fallout from Crowley’s ‘sacrifice’.
Relationships: crowley x reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Requiem

You kept waiting for the punchline, for the loophole. There was no way he was just gone, just like that. Why should you play this game of pretend? It wasn’t as if this was the first time one of you had died, there was always a second act, wasn’t there? 

As the days dragged by you listened to people talking about him in the past tense, as if they honestly thought he wouldn’t be back. Didn’t they realise that you’d walk into a room and see him sitting there with a glass of whiskey, swirling it as he looked up at you with that infuriating smirk on his lips. His gravelly voice greeting you with a simple ‘Hello, darling’. He was just waiting to make a dramatic entrance, the asshole.

Sure, you could lock yourself away in your room, curl up in your bed and give in to the bleakness of the situation, but what would be the point? Crowley would be back, and Cas, everyone would. That’s what you did, right? You worked together to bring them back, why should this time be any different? 

What would be the use in falling apart? You had to focus, had to figure out the trick, see beyond the smoke and mirrors to work out what he needed you to do next. It never occurred to you for a second that what he needed you to do was to move on and live your life without him. That he needed you to feel the heartbreak, to shatter into a million pieces so you could begin to put yourself back together. You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that.

Sitting in your room, you pulled out the shoebox that contained all the little notes the demon had left you, all the small tokens, searching for some hidden meaning. Through these words you felt him near, and if you just closed your eyes it was almost as if he were in the room with you. His presence so strong that you couldn’t imagine that he was truly gone. If you concentrated hard enough, you could smell his aftershave mixed with the scent of brimstone which seemed infused into his suits no matter what he tried. The memory of his grumbling made you chuckle, and then the tears came.

Your world without him felt so dark, so final. That’s not how this worked, your merry bunch always pulled it out at the last minute, so why did this feel different? 

Maybe it was because this time it was different. This time there was no spell, no incantation, no rescue mission to hell or purgatory. There was nothing you could do. The stupid demon had sacrificed himself with no backup plan. 

Picking up the cardboard box, you threw it against the wall with an anguished scream as you sank to the floor, tears streaming down your cheeks. How could he have been so selfish? How could he just leave you? After everything you had been through together, he just… he’d gone. 

You wondered if anyone would actually mourn him, he was a ‘villain’ after all. Usually, in the stories, the kingdom rejoices at the death of the bad guy. There aren’t tears, no candles lit, no requiem sung. You didn’t even have a body to lay to rest.

Sam burst into your room, your scream so loud it had been heard throughout the bunker. Taking in the sight before him, he rushed to your side and pulled you into his arms, almost as if he held tight enough the pieces of you would magically hold together. He had been waiting for this moment, the denial to lift and the realization that Crowley wasn’t coming back to hit. 

He didn’t tell you that you shouldn’t be hurt or feel this loss because Crowley was a demon. He knew it wasn’t as black and white as that. Your relationship with the King of Hell had been tempestuous and unexpected, but that didn’t make it any less genuine. The two of you had seemed to find something in each other, some understanding that made you both somehow better, had healed some of the scars you had thought were permanent. 

All the pain you had been holding back for the past few days finally made its way out of you. Screams of anger, sobs of grief, whimpers of regret. You struggled to remember your last conversation with him. Had you told him you loved him? Did he know in those final moments just how you felt? How you needed him? How your heart would continue to love him long beyond its final beat?

Sam stayed with you. He had other places he should be, but he stayed, reliving all his own grief through you, remembering all the people he had loved and lost. There were no words that would help you right now. Things would get easier, but they would never be the same, there would always be a Crowley shaped hole in your life. He wanted to tell you that you would learn to manage the grief, that there would be times when it would hit you on some random Tuesday at 2pm when you were in a store and spotted his favourite whiskey, or when you half woke up at 3am and rolled over, reaching out to his side of the bed to find it empty and cold, but those moments would be less frequent in time. But he kept silent, knowing the only thing he could do was to be here for you.

For now, all you could do was let wave after wave of grief wash over you, clinging to your friend in order to stop yourself from drowning in the sorrow.


End file.
